(I live in the outlying islands of Hong Kong. Not to brag, but I make a cracking veggie sausage roll. Friends both veggie and carnivorous rave about them and I am always happy to give out the recipe. One weekend we are invited to a barbecue at a friend’s place, so I make a batch to take along — barbecues can be fairly miserable for vegetarians. I pop them on the table of snacks and grab myself a drink. Presently I am introduced to a young woman who has recently moved to the island. The following ensues:)

Young Woman: “These sausage rolls are delicious! It’s so nice to have proper veggie food at a barbecue!”

Me: “Aw, thank you! I absolutely agree; my husband and I are both veg and we love them, too.”

Young Woman: “You must give me the recipe!”

Me: “Oh, hang on.”

(I am about to tell her what goes into the rolls but my attention is diverted to my overly-helpful two-year-old trying to carry three plates at once. I bend down to take them off her and gently tell her just to take one since they’re heavy. Straightening back up, I am greeted with…)

Young Woman: “WELL, FINE! I suppose it’s one of these bloody secret family recipes is it?”

Me: “No, no, it’s—“

Young Woman: “I can’t stand people like you. You all think you’re so clever and above all of us, and you don’t even have the decency to share a little love!”

Me: “No, no, really! It’s—“

Young Woman: “SHARE A LITTLE LOVE!” *flounces out*

Friend: “It’s not a secret recipe, is it? You gave me the recipe after Christmas.”